Word: meanderings
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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While the legal battles meander through the courts, condominium conversion may be continuing. "At some places, they (developers) have lost their rehabilitation loans, but in other areas it hasn't changed the pace of conversions," Lawrence A. Frisoli, a city councilor who voted in favor of condo conversions, said last week. Frisoli's claims are wishful thinking, responds Sullivan. "I haven't heard of a single condo being occupied. When the law is broken, I assume the person will be prosecuted and end up with a $500 fine and a criminal record for the rest of his or her life...
...standard place to meander is along the Charles, where you can find joggers 24 hours a day. Be careful about walking alone late at night, though. In winter you can "tray" (sled on the Union's meal trays) on Weeks Bridge. In the spring one sophomore sat underneath the bridge every morning to feed the ducks. Just beyond the bridge lies the prettiest of all Harvard campuses--the Business School. You can marvel at the myopia of the B-School students, who look singularly homogeneous with their briefcases and harried faces. They never seem to notice what a delightful place...
...accepts the $500 check and the big black and yellow world's champion rib bon from Host Evans. Two hundred T shirts have been sold, the sarsaparilla has given out and the Olympic torch is flickering low. Wiping the fried chicken from their fingers, the satisfied spectators slowly meander toward the car pasture. "See you all next year," says Evans, as a state policeman helps the campers and pickups thread in among the giant semis barreling along Route 35. From one departing truck, a rooster crows an unprintable reply. - Spencer Davidson
...Dutch writer Janwillem van de Wetering writes about Amsterdam policemen and the statutes and terrors that govern their lives, but this casual author makes Sjöwal-Wahlöö look like Ellery Queen. Van de Wetering's novels meander along, with asides on the foibles of human nature and gracefully written filaments of Eastern philosophy. The plot is announced early in the narrative and dispatched at the end as quickly as a victim. The author, 48, was once a Buddhist monk in Japan (he wrote about that arduous life in An Empty Mirror). He returned to The Netherlands...
...encountered in Alaska ("It is in no way an extension of what I've known before"), and his stories strive not to dictate that response but to duplicate it. Rather than stepping smartly from A to Z, his plots tend to pick up casually with N and then meander back around to M. The apparent informality is a ruse. McPhee consistently works like a reverse pickpocket, slipping facts deftly and painlessly into the folds of his narrative: "There are nearly twice as many people in the District of Columbia as there are in the State of Alaska...